


A Familiar Face

by Midnighttomoscow



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28753491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnighttomoscow/pseuds/Midnighttomoscow
Summary: The city is supposed to be a place where you blend, where you fall into anonymity, where no one cares who you are or what you do, as long as you can pay rent. But suddenly Desmond is haunted with this feeling of being watched, this tugging sensation that ebbs and flows as he goes about his life. What is the universe trying to tell him?
Kudos: 21





	A Familiar Face

**Author's Note:**

> As with most people this year, I have been at home and all of my outlets are no longer feasible. So I turned to video games, I've never played them and never had an interest in all honesty, until Assassin's Creed. I whipped through the Ezio Collection in an embarrassing amount of time and fell in love with the story. While playing Desmond's Journey in Revelations, there's a section called Metropolis, and when Desmond describes living in New York I lost it. It's all true. Living in a city so vast, the anonymity of it all, being able to do whatever you want and no one cares. Crying at 3am while eating a bagel? It's New York. Dancing till your feet bleed at a circus club? It's New York. Want cheesecake at 4am after a night of drinking? Go to Katz's. 
> 
> I lived these memories, I loved my time there and I would never let anyone take it from me, but there comes a time where running away from your problems or people can no longer be a feasible option. I spent many weekends dancing in Bushwick at a place called House of Yes, losing myself in a crowd of too many people. It's both wildly depressing and invigorating all at once, cause hey it's New York and no one gives a shit about you or what you do. 
> 
> This is me, just trying to grasp at feelings and thoughts in a way I can compartmentalize. 
> 
> Read on and review.

Part One: 

“Why don’t you leave early today Des? You look like you need a day off.” For a Friday, Bad Weather was slow.

Tara leans across the bar, flashing him a worried smile. She’s always worried about him, looking out for him, worried the city will swallow him whole. She always called herself head bartender, but to be honest she wasn’t that great at making drinks. What she was good at, was people. She knew when to stop, when to send people home, who to schedule together and how to talk to everyone. That was her specialty, and she could read Desmond like a book.

She took one look at him when he got into work that night and knew he needed to escape, so she let him go early. 

No matter how much they cleaned, Bad Weather always had the smell of stale beer lingering, just barely hitting your nose when you were there, but you noticed its absence when you left. The night was unseasonably cold for August, but he would never complain of cool summers in New York. 

Cool summers meant less mystery AC water dripping down on the sidewalk, no hot garbage stench during perpetual garbage days and an escape from the heat. 

The walk home from the subway didn’t lead home tonight. 

It was loud, but it was always loud. That’s the way he liked it, that’s exactly what he needed. Drowning everything out so he could fade into the background and feel the noise around him. Pounding of the bass rattling the floor, twice as fast as his own heart so he couldn’t feel it rattling in his chest. 

Closing his eyes, he leans against the wall, drink in hand, swaying his head side to side. Beginning to feel the calm take over, willing it to spread through his body.

He can see the lights flash from behind closed eyes. Stolen moments flying through his mind. Watching with unseeing eyes, he lets the colours play out, doing nothing but breathing. 

This old haunt was something different than where he worked, it was a place of exploration, of taboos, a house of differences, a house of yes. 

Opening his eyes he watches the dance floor, skirting the perimeter, looking around and seeing a few familiar faces. Patrons from the bar, faces from the subway, his daily commute. New York was everything and nothing all at once.

He could be truly anonymous if he wanted to be. 

“You look familiar” She yells over the music, touching his arm gently. Her smile is sweet, but she’s holding on to something devilish. 

“I do, do I?” Flashing a smile that got him the bar job, she flutters her lashes at him. Long and fake, her eyeliner glowing in the black light. Her long dark hair frames her face, soft features with bright eyes look at him intently. 

“Do you want to have some fun?” She runs her hand down his arm finding his hand and giving it a tug, another smile as he follows onto the dance floor. He is prey to her, he can feel it in the way she holds his hand. 

Lights flashing, TVs lighting up behind the DJ he begins to dance. 

Her small hands creep across the expanse of his chest, he can feel his heart pounding, too slow to keep up with the beat. 

Just let go

“What’s your name” She shouts, looking up at him. 

“Desmond. What’s yours?” He gets close to her ear, breath coming out in a huff. She shivers lightly, closing her eyes. 

“Cristina. What do you do for work?” He lets out a light laugh, holding the girl by her hips before looking into her eyes. They stop dancing for a moment, letting the crowd push them back and forth. 

“You don’t have to do this” She lets out a sigh of relief, tossing her head back in a bit of a laugh before wrapping her arms around his neck. Her body relaxes under his touch.

“Thank god” He tangles his hand into her hair, pulling her face into his, kissing her.

Music thunders around him and he can feel himself slipping into it. Falling deeper and deeper he lets the beat take him, swaying with Cristina and sneaking kisses.

She feels so warm, the curve of her body fitting perfectly into his. He closes his eyes, letting her guide him as he finds a rhythm for his breathing, slowing his startled heart, finally letting go of the tension he was holding. 

They’re surrounded, bumping into other club goers, falling into laughter at their drunken stupors. Desmond looks up watching the go-go dancers in their all white outfits, glitter falling into the crowd. He catches a handful before sprinkling it over Cristina. He can feel himself letting go more and more as the minutes pass.

Open hands reach from cages as they swing above, a hoop descending above the middle of the dance floor, someone dressed in a skin tight body suit hanging from it dangerously. They begin to spin, twisting around the hoop, bending into impossible shapes before lifting their partner from the dance floor. The unsuspecting club goers let out a collective gasp.

Arms locked, they swing above the crowd, hands reaching and grasping to the sky, begging the couple to touch down to earth. 

They continue swinging, their endless circles in the heavens, staring down at their adoring crowd. 

How it would feel to command a crowd like they do, swing from heights like they do. Trust in each other like they do. 

Cristina closes her eyes absently as Desmond watches, enthralled with their every movement. 

His antsy feeling returns, the previous peace starting to edge away and he needs to walk around, the crowd suddenly becoming too much. 

“Do you want another drink?” Breaking her calm, she nods and doesn’t bother opening her eyes, continuously swaying to the beat. 

He parts the crowd, gently passing everyone, their skin cold on his. Moving towards the bar, he catches the bartenders eyes, throwing her a nod as he approaches. 

It’s quieter here, but only barely. The lights aren’t as intense as out on the dance floor, instead they’re bathed in a muted glow. He takes this moment to catch his breath, feeling the pounding of the floor through the soles of his feet, the fake heart beat too fast to be his own. 

Leaning onto the bar, he takes a deep breath. He’s the only one waiting for a drink. 

“Hey, don’t you bartend over at that bar in Greenwich, I think it’s called Bad Weather?” She leans across the counter, a breath away. 

She’s tall and willowy, her yellow halter a pop against her skin, its plunging neckline seems a little dangerous with a job that involves so much movement. One hand rests under her chin in contemplation, the other holds a shaker protectively. Her long fingers grasp the top tightly as she places it onto the counter. 

“I do, have you been? That doesn’t really seem like your scene” Desmond shouts over the music. Bad Weather was definitely not her scene. A dive bar in Greenwich village where all the students come to pretend they’re from here. 

Talking about being a New Yorker like they were born and bred here, but New York is a city of misfits and ne'er do wells, running away from their problems because they’re too dumb to solve them. The constant chase of stability, one slip and you’ll fall from the precipice you’ve worked so hard to build. 

One slip and you’re running back home to wherever you came from, but he never had that option. No home to run to, so here he was, just another face in the crowd. 

This city had a way of sucking the life out of you when it wanted to, the anonymity of it all was so taxing after a while. Throwaway interactions with people you may never see again, no small talk just business.

Having someone recognize him pulled him out of his dream state and gave him a touch of hope. 

“A friend of mine was in an Off Broadway show recently, we went for drinks after.” She flashes a smile, full lips parting to reveal bright white teeth. Desmond gives a gentle nod of approval. 

“That checks out. Did you have my signature cocktail?” Her face contorts in confusion for a second, dark brows furrowing over her wild eyes. 

“You mean the Shirley Templar?” He can hear her shrill laugh over the music. 

“That’s the one! What did you think?” She shakes her head gently, halo of hair around her face bouncing with the movement. Closing her eyes in laughter she composes herself before responding. 

“Can I give you my version?” 

“Make it two” She turns on her heel getting to work and Desmond watches the dance floor again. 

Located between the entrance and the bathrooms, the bar was always the best vantage point. The long hallway to the bathroom, covered floor to ceiling wall to wall with mirror squares, allowed the lights to dance all over the bar. 

The club glowed purple before transitioning to pink, lights bouncing off the club goers, their exposed skin slick with sweat. 

He could just barely make out Cristina, close to the centre, her glowing eyeliner illuminating as the black light turns to her. 

“Here, on the house” She flashes another smile and Desmond gives a nod. 

“Next time you’re in Greenwich it’ll be my treat”

“I see you here more than you will see me there” She gives a wink before turning away. 

Their takeaway interaction is now a little more than just business, he made a real connection. 

Desmond makes his way back to the centre, sliding past people, trying not to spill their drinks when his eyes catch something.Someone who doesn’t belong. He can feel his brows furrow as his world comes back into focus.

Sad eyes meet his, this kid must have been no older than eighteen. He can feel a pull in his chest, like a string attached to his muscles. A gentle tug across the room, like the universe is trying to tell him something. 

Like when the big bang happened, and when atoms split, theirs were once together. 

Brown shaggy hair, long and disheveled, it hangs loosely around his shoulders. When he smiles it's electric, the corner of his lip tugging upward in a way that seems effortless. This boy moves with the beat and Desmond can see nothing but himself as he gets lost. 

They share a moment, the tugging intensifies, then it’s gone. And just like that, Desmond feels like something is missing. He disappears into the crowd, the sudden calm now replaced with panic. 

“Did you get those drinks?” Cristina stirs him but the feeling doesn’t leave. The absence of something creates a blackhole within his soul, the crack that he thought had filled intensifies. 

He hands Cristina her drink and they begin to dance together once more. He tries to get lost, focusing on the constant thump, looking at the aerial acrobats, but he can’t shake the feeling. 

The weird familiarity of someone he has never seen before. He can feel the edges of a name in his mind but it's just vowels. The name feels soft, but mischievous. He compartmentalizes the feeling, trying to push it away, down into a box to unpack later. 

When suddenly the tugging is back, at the edge of his mind, the gentle pulling of a string. It tells him to look, so he does. 

He’s closer this time, reaching his hands up his fingertips brush the edges of the silks that hang from the ceiling. He closes his eyes, swaying in time, the girl he’s with doing the same. 

Ezio

The name arrives to the forefront of his mind as the boy looks directly at him, eyes narrowing like they're sharing a secret. In a way they are, his face almost a mirror of his own. 

He touches his lip absently, Cristina looks up at him in confusion, pulling his hand away and placing it back onto her hips. 

Why does Desmond feel such an affinity for this person? He's never felt this way before, never felt this connection with a complete stranger. 

A hand finds his face, small and warm, Cristina pulls his face down to meet hers. She kisses him before pulling away to speak. Her hands stay on either side of his face, she’s forcing him to look at her. 

“Wanna get out of here” Her eyes lock onto his, deep, dark and never ending. He tries to focus on this moment, letting her take him out of his own head. 

“Yes” They escape the dance floor, her hand entwined into his, she leads tugging him out into the sweet summer air. 

“Do you live close to here?” His question comes out almost breathless. 

She stops for a moment, rifling through her bag before procuring a cigarette. Lighting it, she takes a long drag like she’s contemplating what he asked. 

“Oh no, I live with five other people in a three bedroom apartment. We’re going back to your place” He tries to hide the shock on his face. 

“I also have roommates,” Desmond informs her, taking the cigarette from her offering hand. 

“But do you have five of them?” He shakes his head. 

“No I only have two”

“See, it’s New York City baby, everyone has roommates. Can’t pay rent if you don’t have em!” Her tone is biting, hiding her disdain. 

“So what do you do anyways” 

“I thought you didn’t want to know?” She shoots him a mischievous look. 

It’s true, he didn’t want to get close to her, but he was endlessly curious about her living situation. She did have a point though, everyone in New York has roommates.

The city would chew you up and spit you out if you didn’t, but he decided not to press her any further. Instead, they walked to the subway looking for city rats and talking about nothing. 

“Okay, we like Cristina.” Desmond doesn’t even bother looking up from his breakfast at the woman leaning close to him. The door bangs closed after Robbie makes his way in, a trail of glitter following him on the floor.

“When did you two get in last night?” He asks his oatmeal. 

He could never shake the farm breakfast, something about the thick oats just comforted him, although these had much more molasses than his father would ever allow. 

“Just after you two apparently.” Robbie’s sass is especially annoying this morning. 

Rolling his neck he lifts his eyes to see Robbie’s interrogation face, arms crossed he looms over Desmond. 

Lila slides into the chair across from him at their bistro table. Her long legs are bare and she’s in one of his t-shirts again.

They’re both still covered in glitter from the night before, he can see it in the sunshine that filters in through the window.

Robbie huffs at Desmond before he flops onto the couch across from them with a heavy sigh. Desmond glares at the glitter scattered everywhere.

“Hey, you know the glitter rule, you both need to shower and vacuum.” Desmond levels his eyes at Lila in particular, pointing his spoon in an effort to seem menacing. It doesn’t work. 

Robbie grimaces, “We will, we will. Now you were going to tell us about this girl!”

Desmond shakes his head at the lousy attempt at changing the subject. Lila shifts in the chair, pulling her leg under her and leaning on the table with both elbows. He can feel the weight of her stare.

“I know as much as you know.” His nonchalant shrug causes Robbie to groan miserably. 

He doesn’t dare look up from his bowl, he knows Lila’s pouting.

“We only know her name though.” Lila narrows her gaze at Desmond’s nod. He tries to shrug once more but can’t help a glance in her direction.

Her pout hits him full force, he stares at her full lips briefly before his gaze flicks back to stare in her eyes. Big and brown, they look deep, brows knit together in a needy way. Hair thrown into a ponytail that has obviously been slept on, her makeup flaking. She lets out a childish huff.

“Exactly. There were no strings attached, just a fun night out. You should know the type.” His shrug is a bit more bitter this time, but he knows only Lila catches it.

He ignores her as she narrows her gaze, walking into the kitchen and washing his bowl out, her eyes following him. His movements are slow, turning the tap on, letting the water run, he hopes the more time he takes the less she will pester him. 

From his spot at the kitchen island he has a full view of Lila’s novelty underwear. The ‘Have A Nice Day’ in bold bubblegum pink bubble letters has never seemed more mocking. 

Inhaling softly, she places her palms on the table, “Well, that’s how we started” Lila throws a look to Robbie who returns it with a wink. She knows Desmond can see her underwear, but stays there anyway. Soaking in the moment before she grits her teeth, standing suddenly she makes her way to the couch. 

“Too bad I’m gay, sweetheart.” Her sigh is as fake as Desmond’s attempt to focus on the dishes. He huffs at her dramatic collapse into Robbie’s outstretched arms. 

“That’s not what’s going on with Cristina. I don’t even know what she does, I don’t even know her last name. I’m almost positive she doesn’t even want something like that.” Desmond places his dish in the rack to dry before wearily settling down into the chair across from them. Lila’s eyes follow his hand as it rakes through his hair. 

The sun shines through their open window, casting long shadows along the floor. Desmond gazes at the shadows as if they’re the only thing grounding him into reality, as if they were the answers to all his problems. 

He sees two little trails of glitter wandering around the room, but it doesn’t even register until he’s taken a deep grounding breath. His jaw clenches when he sees that they came from Robbie’s room and made it all the way to the couch, with a pit stop at the bistro table.

Lila fiddles with a button on Robbie’s shirt as her face tenses, “Doesn’t matter what she does, Des, as long as she makes rent in this city. That’s all that matters.” She chides at him, throwing a glance to the closed bedroom door situated across from the communal living space. Robbie follows her eyes before grinning, catching her fiddling hand as she sits haphazardly on his lap. 

“Speaking about rent. When are you moving in sweetheart? We have a vacancy.” Lila huffs pushing off his chest before resettling next to him. Desmond glances tensely at the exchange, but focuses a perplexed look to Robbie. 

“I thought Chris was just spending the summer in Cape Cod like all those rich kids do. He decide not to come back this time?” Robbie shakes his head. 

It was no secret that Desmond didn’t get along with Chris. They seemed to clash in every way, creating a rivalry worthy of Cain and Abel. There have been many nights where he has ranted to Lila about all the things wrong with his other roommate.

“Nope! Chrissie’s gone for good at the end of the month!” He responds and Lila rolls her eyes. 

“Yeah no, I have a great apartment. I’m never moving. I’m dying there.” Robbie whines pitifully before moving towards the closet where they keep the vacuum, having seen the silent looks Desmond keeps giving him. 

“You live in the middle of nowhere! Why-“ Robbie starts. 

“Queens is not the middle of nowhere!” She scowls deeply at him and Desmond can’t help but chuckle, if a bit sadly. This was a common morning after argument that never got old. 

“And why are we always here on the weekends then? Hmm? Is it because all the fun places are- let me get this straight- in Brooklyn of all places?” Robbie, always the drama queen, throws his arms up in exasperation, and assumes a righteous pose. Well tries too, he doesn’t accomplish it very well with glitter all over him and leaning heavily on the closet door, surreptitiously searching it for the vacuum.

Lila ignores him, “Speaking of all the fun places in Brooklyn… Do you work tonight, Des? Or can we go back and woo Cristina once more?” She directs all of her teasing attention to Desmond now, dwelling on him like he’s the only person in the room. 

Robbie yelps indignantly, “Don’t change the subject! And didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to ignore-” She waves her hand nonchalantly before he can continue. His glare looks like it wants to burn her, but wouldn’t even succeed at lighting a match.

Lila punctuates her words with hand movements, “You. Me. Robbie. Lots of drinks, we can either wingman you so you can date this girl or we’ll get you laid again. You’re always a lot more pleasant when satisfied” Desmond lets his head fall back, stubbornly staring at the ceiling while his blush subsides. His answer comes out as irritated and annoyed.

“If you like Cristina so much, why don’t you ask her out?” Lila's laugh is soft and smooth. 

Robbie finally finds the vacuum with a triumphant noise and begins to clean up the hideous glitter trail with their pitiful little Dirt Devil. Lila stares at him appreciatively as he hunches over on his hands and knees, methodically sucking up all the pieces.

Desmond tries to ignore the feeling building in his chest by occupying himself with staring out the window. 

“Well Desmond, not all of us enjoy nothing but one night stands. Perhaps if I knew what she did for work, I could give her a chance. She could kill mice for all I know!” Lila barks, putting emphasis on the one night stands. The tightness in his chest grows, but he squashes the feelings, not wanting them to resurface.

Robbie turns the vacuum off, straightening to his full height before speaking in a condescending tone, “You mean like the last girl you dated…what was her name? Sylvia?” he looks to Desmond for confirmation, ignoring Lila’s look of horror as the realization hits her.

“Yeah Sylvia…Wasn’t she getting her PhD? It was something pharmacology related…” Desmond finishes Robbie’s thought and Lila throws her hands up in frustration. She glares at each in turn. Robbie rolling his eyes, and spotting another pile of glitter, falls back down on all fours, vacuum blazing once more. 

Lila pouts with her arms crossed while she waits for the loud noise to stop.“She still killed mice! Mice! And she wore her shoes inside, I don’t want city dirt in my nice little apartment. Besides, she was way too annoying, so you never know, it could totally be a common trait with those … mice killing types.” Rubbing his eyes gingerly, Desmond raises his eyebrows in defeat. There is no arguing with a petulant Lila. 

“Ok fine, we’ll go back again tonight. She may not even be there though so don’t get too hopeful!” He allows her a gloating look, which she relishes in. 

“Then we’ll just have to hit up every bar in the area until we find her.” Her wicked grin sends a shiver down Desmond’s spine.

Robbie stops vacuuming, appearing behind the couch, hands on either side of Lila’s shoulders. He’s clearly still upset she brushed off his offer of moving in with them earlier. 

“You wanna know who doesn’t kill mice and doesn't wear their shoes inside? Us, we make great roommates you know” She lets out a squawk of annoyance, hitting his hands away and glaring at him.

“I don’t even work in the city! I work in Queen’s!” She yells childishly crossing her arms.

“But I’ll make you French Toast every Sunday, just the way you like it. You and Desmond can eat your gross oatmeal every morning…” Robbie trails attempting to persuade her. 

“I will think about it.” Robbie can’t hide his grin. “I said think! I will think about it!” Lila corrects loudly before changing the subject. 

“Can you please be a little more discreet about your drinking” Robbie hisses through his teeth, glaring at Lila. 

She relishes in his anger, batting her lashes at him before ripping open the tinfoil top of her single serve wine. Downing it quickly, much to Robbie’s dismay.

He does his best to hide his discomfort but it’s clearly written across his face. A group of girls at the uptown stop across from them toast the air, their giggles echoing through the tunnel. 

Feeding into Lila’s self righteousness, she mimics their toast, hand to her chest in fake modesty. 

“I don’t know who you are, but fun Robbie should have come with us.” Lila huffs, staring down her nose at him. “If I wanted someone to tell me what to do, I would find a daddy.” She taps her foot menacingly, heel clicking against the slick tile of the subway platform. Her voice drips with sarcasm, but she shoots Desmond a wink anyways.

He flushes in response, the tightness in his chest from earlier returning.

Reaching across Robbie, he grabs for her purse, no longer wanting to be sober on this journey.

“I know you have more wine in there,” Desmond says with a desperate tone. Robbie backs away from the two of them, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“You two are ridiculous” His body language says disappointment, but deep down there’s a part of him that wants to participate.

“See, even Desmond is into it.” Turning her back to Robbie she opens the clasp on her purse. “Keep this up and we may end up in the same bed tonight Des” Another wink. 

He can feel his palms begin to sweat, moisture pooling against the plastic of the cup in his hand. Ripping off the top he takes a long swig, wishing for the tightness to go away.

“How many of these did you bring?” Robbie asks with an exasperated tone. 

In his defense, she had been drinking all afternoon on their balcony, not a care in the world, soaking in the city sunshine before it slipped behind all the buildings.

He can see her sway a little, her heels adding a good four inches to her short stature. Desmond takes a step closer to her, hands ready as she begins to tip.

“Enough to party” She’s beginning to slur, her fingers fumble with the clasp that’s already open as she shows the content of her purse with a smirk. Once again Robbie lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Why the fuck do you have so many” He interrogates her but she only answers with a shrug. Desmond has never seen Robbie reduced to being the adult of the group.

On a usual night out, her and Robbie would go off and do whatever they pleased while Desmond made sure everyone made it home in one piece. 

“Came in a ten pack” Was her way of justifying her excessive drinking. She tosses her empty cup, opening another and sharing her spoils with Desmond once more. 

“You were going to drink all these by yourself? Lila you’re nuts.” Desmond chides taking another from her outstretched hand.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this...give me one.” Letting out a long sigh once more, Robbie holds out his hand, accepting his fate and admitting defeat. Popping the top like he had seen the others do, he takes a cautious sip before making a face. 

“You couldn’t have sprung for a nice Pinot Grigio? You had to go with the Chardonnay?” He says, nose scrunching, lips puckering. 

“The correct response is thank you.” Lila rolls her eyes in a grandiose way. 

They down the last of their drinks quickly as their train pulls in. Boarding, they huddle together, keeping close amongst the crowds of people.

The platform may have been empty, but this train is packed. 

Desmond takes a moment aboard the loud Saturday night train, staring out the glass doors, collecting himself. Robbie and Lila lay out their plan of attack, the recent spat they had now swept under the rug. 

The train on the opposite track rumbles to a stop and something tells him to look left. A tugging sensation he recognized beckons to him. He can hear the conductor call out the next stop, the sound of the doors chiming closed seems to be eons away.

A man, with the same scar, sits and stares out the window. They share a look and Desmond can feel his expression contort into disbelief. Like looking into a dirty mirror, the man cracks a crooked grin just as the train pulls away. 

He shakes his head in disbelief, pulling himself back to reality. There was no tugging this time, no strings, just someone who looked a lot like him on another train. Could it have just been a trick of his reflection? Was he the one grinning back? 

The train begins to move, steadying himself, he catches Lila with a thud, holding on to her as they pick up speed. He hears the tail end of their conversation and looks between them. 

“What are you two plotting? You know I can hear you right?” Lila looks like a child caught stealing a cookie, her bird-like blue eyes widen further.

“It’s nothing you have to worry about” Her tone is serious and she places her head against his shoulder, keeping it there until they get off. 

“I don’t see her!” Lila shouts as the dance floor moves to the beat, an ocean of people moving as one. Her head bobs around as she finds gaps to look through. 

Desmond closes his eyes, no longer wanting to look at her pouting face. He counts in his head, listening to nothing but the beat, letting it take him. He reaches towards her, opening his eyes before placing his hands on her hips. 

“Shhh…we’re dancing” He touches his forehead to hers. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy this, her closeness, the feeling of her hands against him. The smell of her freshly washed hair as she tucks under his chin. 

Robbie left them to get more drinks and hit on one of the Go-go dancers he always tries to go home with. 

He can feel her relax, her muscles melt beneath his hands as he moves them up her body landing in the middle of her back. She snakes her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. 

His heart pounds in his ribcage, a trapped little bird trying to break free. He wonders if she can feel it, if her heart is pounding too. 

Their relationship was more complicated than he would like to admit. This beautiful wild girl enchanted him, but she was forbidden. 

Of course they had slept together a few times, but there was supposed to be no feelings, no strings attached. He tried to keep it that way, but it was hard. The way she looked at him sometimes, it caught him off guard before she steeled herself back behind the wall of a fun party girl. 

Moments they shared, just the two of them in the middle of the night after drinking their cares away. Cuddled up on the couch, under blankets laughing. 

The way he confided in her, she knew more about his past than anyone else. And she never judged, a few snide comments about off grid hippies, but they were all in jest. 

The way her hand fit into his, how she always grabbed for it when she was on the verge of a meltdown. He could quell her anxieties, protect her from harm, but she didn’t always need to be taken care of. Her voracious nature just seemed to engulf him sometimes and he just let her take him along for the ride. 

Her breath comes out in puffs on his bare skin. He always forgets how short she is, until they’re pressed up against one another.

“I like it when you’re tall” He tells her matter of factly and he can feel her laugh. One of her hands leaves his chest and he knows Robbie’s back with drinks. He misses the warmth of her fingers, the way she tapped out the beat. 

Opening his eyes he takes hold of the cup. 

“What is it?” He shouts and Robbie just shrugs. 

“No clue, I told her to make something fun” A Shirley Temple with Tequila, the same drink he had the day before. 

Lila looks perplexed when Desmond laughs. 

“The bartender is really cute isn’t she?” Robbie raises a brow, clearly wondering how he knew from the drink alone. 

“Not really my type, but Lila might like her” She gives a shrug before opening their circle and letting Robbie back in. 

They take a moment to down their drinks and look up in awe at the performers. 

Desmond reaches a hand up, brushing the silk before letting it fall to his side. He spins, swaying to the beat, closing his eyes once more, thinking of nothing but the pounding and how it matched up with his heart tonight. He could feel himself slipping, deeper and deeper into intoxication, his movements no longer smooth, his feet no longer steady. 

“There she is” His heart skips a beat as he follows Lila’s hurried pointing finger across the dance floor. He can just make out the side of Cristina’s face, her mouth open as she leans against her dance partner. 

A cage lowers and some of the crowd scatters, a gap opens and Desmond’s eyes widen. 

“Hey, that guy has the same scar you do?!” Lila shouts in shock, her disbelief obvious, head darting back and forth between the two of them. 

It was the same guy from the night before. Eyes closed, he buries his nose into Cristina’s neck. Disheveled hair pulled back, his sharp jaw and strong nose casting shadows as the lights danced. 

It was then that he could feel it, the string that had pulled him closer last night, the one that filled him with dread and anxiety, snapped. He felt like he was falling. 

The boy looked different tonight, older. He had a hint of stubble on his cheeks, the whisper of lines on his face, and his eyes didn’t have the same carefree joy. 

They share a look and his dark eyes are swimming with contentment. He looks calm, the hint of a smile pulling at his scarred lip. Desmond could never ruin that. 

That string that brought them together, two colliding atoms splitting into pieces, was gone. Burned up and scattered into the wind. His feeling of falling continued and he couldn’t discern if it was the string or the drinks. 

Maybe it was just a coincidence, maybe it was fate and this boy would bring a change Desmond desperately needed in his life. A little bit of direction in his wandering path. 

He thought the monotony and anonymity of the city would bring him peace, the big dream he watched everyone else chase, was crumbling. He needed to find his own dream. 

“Come on, I’ll wingman you, the bartender is pretty cute.” He holds the back of Lila’s head as he speaks to her, feeling her nod they leave the dance floor. Taking a breath, the expanse of space opening on the edge of the floor is cold. 

Her makeup is smudged from sweat, Desmond pulls her to the side and with a swipe of his thumb she’s good as new. 

“If you wanna take her back to ours you can, I’ll go grab something to eat at Veselka, you can have my bed as long as there’s no glitter.” She smiles a wide grin, touching Desmond’s cheek before they head to the bar. Her hand is cold against his cheek, she lets it linger for a moment, like she’s going to say something, but she stops. 

They head to the bar. 

“How did you like my little addition?” The same girl from the night before, her yellow halter showing off her smooth complexion. Same outfit two nights in a row was rather daring. 

“The Tequila really packs a punch!” Desmond says with a laugh. “I didn’t ask your name yesterday and I should have, I’m Desmond, this is Lila” They share a bit of a look and he knows he won’t have to wingman for much longer. 

“I’m Elle” He lets them chat for a little while, staring into the crowd of people longingly, wishing for the calm to return. 

He catches short glimpses of Cristina, still with Ezio and it sets his mind at ease a little more, their red string of fate no longer pulsing between them. 

Taking a deep breath he returns to the conversation. 

“When do you get off?” Lila shouts leaning over the counter.

“Around 2, there’s an after party If you want to come?” Elle looks to Desmond as Lila agrees. 

“We have another friend with us, if he doesn’t go home with that guy can he come too?” Desmond points to a dark haired, speedo wearing contortionist swinging from the rafters as his partner holds on to their hoop. 

“Oh he’s coming to the after party, your friend will have better luck wooing him there” She gives a laugh, pouring a row of shots. 

“Here, meet me out back just after last call, I’ll take you to the after party.” 

Desmond and Lila share a look.

What a long night this will be. 

He stood against the wall, observing quietly. 

They were waiting for Elle to finish her shift. Lila was chain smoking the way she always did when she got a little too drunk.

Desmond reaches for her purse as she feigns mock surprise, hands swatting him away. She knows exactly what he wants. 

“You should ask a lady before going into her purse!” She squeals before laughing. 

He knows she can see the desperation in his eyes. Pulling a lighter from a zippered pocket, her long red nails clicking against it before she finds it. She lights his cigarette, taking a few puffs before passing it off.

His hand brushes hers as he takes it, the touch surprises him, her hands are so cold. 

“I’m sorry tonight didn’t work out the way I planned.” He fixates on the cigarette for a moment, watching it burn before bringing it to his lips and taking a drag. Lila never apologizes. 

Leaning against the wall next to him, Lila places her head onto his shoulder. He can smell her perfume, it’s floral and mixed with sweat. The smell is nostalgic, sweat and flowers bring him back to the farm. 

Lacing her fingers into his she holds his hand, giving it a squeeze of reassurance before slinking to the ground. Following her down, he allows her hand to stay entwined in his, her head resting on his shoulder. 

The touch was comforting. She stretches out her long legs, letting her feet splay out like a child, her boots land with a thud in the dirt. 

They sit like that, in silence for a long time, finding solace in one another. He sneaks glances her way, taking stock of her before they move on to the next party. 

Her pantyhose is ripped from when she tripped trying to get to the bar earlier. Makeup smudged, hair in disarray it forms a blonde halo around her head. He smooths her hair as she closes her eyes. 

Suddenly the back door opens with a slam and Elle emerges, clutching her backpack tightly to her chest. 

“Are you ready?” Her eyes look wild, pupils dilated, she’s put on lipstick and the dark shade makes her teeth look whiter than before. 

Lila nods sleepily. Desmond stands first and she clutches on to him, hoisting herself onto her shoes. 

“Alright let’s go!” Elle shouts excitedly grabbing on to Lila’s hand, he follows close behind, steadying them as they trudge towards the subway. 

The after party was in a random warehouse in Bushwick with a hidden door. Elle explained as they walked out of the subway station. 

“A friend of a friend’s parents owns this place apparently. They just let them use it for anything, so they decided on a speakeasy.” She says with a nonchalant shrug. Lila hangs on her every word, her large eyes glassy from drinking. 

Desmond tries to listen as Elle explains, he catches every few words but they don’t seem to sink in. 

They follow a long brick wall where Elle points out a single yellow brick beside a telephone box. 

Shooting them a look, she tells them to stop, pulling the door aside and climbing in. She picks up the receiver, dialing an unknown number and waiting. 

“Hello, I’m here to see the banker” There's a loud clang as the back of the box opens up revealing a tall man in a suit. 

“Hello Elle, two guests tonight?” Lila’s eyes widen and she takes a step back, Desmond places a hand on the small of her back steadying her on her shoes. 

“Yes please, do we have the usual booth? The others will be here shortly, Fran and Damon are closing tonight” With a nod the man steps aside and Elle pulls them into a dark corridor. 

Desmond keeps his hands on Lila as she stumbles along, Elle grasping her hand tightly. There’s a light at the end, a chandelier in the middle of a cement room, draped in red velvet. 

The back wall is lined with mirrors, and a long bar is situated in front of it, the spirits lining the mirrored wall, their glass reflecting in the dim light. 

Definitely not the same vibe as before. The music here is softer, more intentional, still loud and difficult to talk over, but very different. 

Elle pulls them along, making eye contact with the bartender before settling into an empty booth. The round alcove with its low table and high seating adding more privacy than the vast expanse of the open dance floor filled with bodies. 

She situates herself, placing her bag down and stretching her neck before leveling her gaze. 

Desmond and Lila sit across from her, and Lila is hanging on her every word. He can’t figure out if it’s because she likes Elle or if she’s too drunk to be left alone. 

“Whatever you want, order it. We don’t pay for drinks here” Lila shoots him a devious look and he tries not to groan. 

After one round, Desmond forces some water into Lila before allowing her to drink more. Elle does her best to catch up, taking shots before the others arrive. 

Soon they’re all on the dance floor and Desmond is alone in the booth.

Robbie finally landed a night with the contortionist. He looks odd, fully clothed and not suspended above a crowd. He wonders what it’s like going from commanding a room full of people to blending in. The dichotomy of his existence baffles him. 

He breathes deeply, placing his head against the table, trying to shake the feeling from earlier that night. That tugging sensation, the pulling feeling, the sound of someone else’s voice inside his own head. 

“Ezio…” He whispers.

A name he didn’t know and couldn’t figure out where it came from. 

There was a sliver of relief in that uneasy feeling. Their fates were no longer intertwined it seemed, but how were they connected in the first place? 

His weird familiarity with a random stranger in a crowd. He had never experienced that before. 

Not on the farm, never in the city. His mind no longer felt like his own after the intrusion of someone else’s voice inside his head. 

He could feel that new tugging sensation in his chest and was trying to decide if it was his exhaustion or this new found ability. 

Riding out the waves, the tugging intensifies until he stands. 

Making eye contact with Lila he motions towards the door, signalling his departure. She nods in acknowledgement, looking for Robbie. 

Escaping into the night air, he takes a deep breath before finding his way to the subway, feet dragging along the pavement. Maybe the tugging was just exhaustion. 

His chest tightens as he slumps into the seat, skin aching he rolls his shoulder back, trying to release the tension gathering at the base of his skull. He closes his eyes for a moment, head against the glass.

Riding the subway always had a way of calming him, the rocking of the cars and screeching of the brakes. 

“Our words are not meant for you…” Opening his eyes he looks around the car. It doesn’t seem like anyone had spoken to him. The car was empty save for a single rider at the opposite end snoring away. 

He gets off at the next stop, not wanting to stay on any longer and meanders through the lower east side towards the bar. He knew Tara would still be there. 

Catching her eyes as she cleans, he stands at the door. She shoots him a quizzical look, putting her hands on her hips as she unlocks the door.

“The bar is closed sir” She can’t help but crack a smile. 

“Wanna have a drink?” Tara locks the door behind him, pulling down a bottle of bourbon.

“No ice today, I’ve already emptied the machine” He doesn’t care, he never does. 

“How was it tonight? As slow as yesterday?” Shrugging she pours a healthy amount into a short glass. 

“Slower than normal, we had a group of college kids that tipped with daddy’s money though, that was a bonus.” Always a good thing when rich kids rack up their parents cards. 

“What’s up Des, haven’t seen you like this in a while” She leans on the bar, staring at him with a knowing look. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably. 

“I just feel…” He weighs his words, trying to decide what to tell her. His past traumas of the farm always made him feel uneasy opening up. Joking about being raised in a cult and actually talking about it were two very different things. 

What could he tell her? That he heard a voice in his head? That he felt a tugging sensation that led him back here? 

“I feel weird…not like myself…” He picks up gauging her reaction and all he can see is concern. Her brows tighten and that little wrinkle appears on her forehead, the one she gets when she worries. 

“Do you want to take some time off? I can cash out your tips or advance you a little if you need it” Her hand reaches across the bar landing on his, cold but still comforting. 

Something about her seems off, but he can’t quite pinpoint it. 

Letting it slide, he takes a swig placing the glass back on the counter before letting out a sigh. 

“I don’t know what’s worse…feeling off and working or not having work to take my mind off it.” Letting out a bit of a laugh he can hear the uneasiness in his voice. 

“Wanna come over? We can have a few more drinks and watch the sunrise” He nods, Tara snags another bottle of bourbon. 

“What’s he gonna do? Fire me?” Desmond can feel himself melting, the anxiety falling into the pit of his stomach as they walk down the empty streets. The tugging was no longer there, but the relief he felt when the string snapped was also gone. 

He follows her along listening to her talk, catching the cadence of her voice as she tells him stories from the night. She leads him through Greenwich, there’s a few people milling around, boarding busses and off to wherever they’re going. 

Eyes trained to the ground, ears trained to her, his shoulder bumps into someone, his head snaps up and he’s face to face with the same eyes from House of Yes. 

But something is different. Seeing these eyes up close, he realizes that these eyes are older, weathered, his forehead wrinkles and crow's feet noticeable. 

Desmond stops for a moment, staring and it feels as if the world has stopped. He can no longer feel Tara close to him. There’s an eternal moment where everything around them stops and shifts, but only slightly. Like a breeze hit the city all at once and the buildings let out a sigh. 

The man speaks, breaking the silence. 

“Sorry about that friend” His voice sounds sincere, soothing almost, as he pulls his hood up and disappears down a side street.

“Are you okay?” Tara touches his elbow gently, causing him to jump. 

“Yeah…I’m okay…” 

She doesn’t speak the rest of the walk, sneaking glances in his direction she picks up the pace as the sun peaks through the buildings. 

They sit, silently, on her fire escape and pass the bottle back and forth. Desmond takes a long swig, enjoying the burn of the cheap whiskey. 

“Did you know that person?” She asks, still watching the sun, feet dangling over the edge. Desmond lets out a long breath thinking before answering.

He didn’t really know Ezio, but he felt like he did. His lined face felt more like home than New York ever did. Even the farm was a far cry from feeling like a home. 

“I don’t think so...why?” He says with a shrug, staring at the city expanse below them. Watching as the little ant like people begin their treks to work. 

Sleepy people shuffling along the streets, no one speaking. It felt like a game, like he could pluck one person up and move them, change their whole life forever. 

“You both have the same scar” She doesn’t look at him when she says this, she stares out between the buildings, the rising sun shines gold on her honey coloured hair. 

Desmond reaches up and touches his lip, feeling the old scar. 

“Do you think he was a part of the same cult you grew up in?” Voice soft, she’s scared to pry. He made fun of his past, his parents, even the end of the world, but there was a big difference between making fun of something and actually talking about it. 

Pushing his forehead against the railing, Desmond closes his eyes, the early sunrise painting colours across his closed lids. 

“I want to say I know him, it feels like I do, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before. I can’t place his face…” He licks his lips before continuing, taking a deep breath. “I just feel...like he’s a part of me…” He lets his voice trail, turning to look at Tara.

Her eyes are glassy, from drinking and exhaustion. They stare at him but don’t actually see him. 

“Maybe it was just meant to be…maybe the universe is trying to tell you something…” Her voice is tired and far away when she speaks. 

Maybe the strings were going to keep tugging him around and this was something he would just have to get used to. Maybe they would get stronger over time and he would lose all free will. Maybe the strings were nothing but the ramblings of a drunk man who was too tired to think. 

He watches the horizon as the city wakes up once more. New York may be the city that never sleeps, but there are certain times where it almost pretends to be quiet. The moments of calm interspersed between the hustle and bustle were what Desmond craved, the quick breaths between hurried nights. 

Tara leans into him closing her eyes, obviously exhausted, she lets her whole weight fall into him. 

He allows her closeness, but this was so much different than with Lila. Tara flushed when her eyes fluttered open, apologizing for falling asleep and excusing herself. 

She disappeared into her apartment, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

Let go… Let go Desmond… Just forget it. Forget it all.


End file.
